


The One Thing You Leave Behind

by Tabithian



Series: Set My Mind to Wandering [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim can feel Jason looking at him, judging him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Thing You Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely, bits of [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/139021455834/naamahdarling-imagineagreatadventure).

Tim can feel Jason looking at him, judging him.

Looks up to where Dick is perched on the balcony railing, insufferable grin on his face.

“No,” Tim says, and turns back to his laptop. Scrolls back up to squint at the instructional pictures that are in no way instructional. “Go bother someone else, I'm busy.”

“Timmers,” Dick says, and Tim winces because thus far he's been able to keep things like that from Jason, but. 

It was only a matter of time, really, with the way Dick and Jason have been working through their issues because they're both horrible human beings who live to make Tim's life miserable.

“'Timmers',” Jason says, this note in his voice Tim does not like the sound of one little bit, no. “' _Timmers'.”_

Tim hunches down, glaring at his laptop screen because how in the world - 

Dick's been trained by Batman, so Tim shouldn't be as surprised as he is when he sneaks up on him, snatching the laptop away from Tim and dancing back out of range.

“Dick!”

Tim throws himself after Dick, fingers brushing his heel. It's a token effort because Tim knows it's futile, but it's not like he can let Dick think he can just get away with things like this.

That Tim would just _let him._

Dick ignores him, goes to hide behind Jason who's sprawled over the couch behind Tim like a lazy lump. As though he thinks Jason's going to protect him from Tim.

“What are you even working on?” Dick asks, and Tim flops onto his back, draping an arm over his face, because - 

“Tim.”

Tim does his best to ignore the obvious laughter in Dick's voice, kicks out when Jason nudges his foot.

“You.” Dick laughs, stupid and amused and _ugh_. “What.”

Tim sighs, lowers his arm to see Dick and Jason both smirking at him.

Gaze sliding to the side where Spitfire is sulking, back turned to the room high atop the cat tower Jason dragged in one day and just. 

Left.

This unholy mishmash of wood and carpeting with a nest perched at the top that brushes the living room ceiling. Little cat toys attached here and there that jingle and rattle when Spitfire plays with them, the whole thing looking like it's going to come tumbling down any minute.

“The romance has gone out of their relationship,” Jason sighs, like a character out of a period romance. “ _Timmers_ , there, is trying to rekindle it.”

There's a delicate sort of pause, in which Tim can all but hear Dick thinking. Gears turning slowly, and then - 

And then Dick's laughing, all-over delighted and Jason's joining in, this deeper, rougher laugh, and Tim.

Tim groans, rolls over to see if he can smother himself in the ridiculous fake bearskin rug Jason is also responsible for. Hot pink fur with a glittering rhinestone tiara on the bear's head and painted claws. (Tim doesn't even _know_.)

“I hate you both,” Tim mutters. “So, so much.”

Because Jason.

Not completely, wrong, just.

A horrible human being, really.

********

“Okay, so,” Jason says, turning one of Tim's shurikens in his hands. “What the hell, Tim?”

Tim's given up trying to make sense of his life, is learning to, as the kids say, 'roll with it'.

(To a point.)

Because Dick is back again, curled up in one of the armchairs, dozing fitfully with Spitfire in his lap purring away.

“Busy,” Tim says, holding up one of Jason's shirts and eyeing it critically.

“Yeah, but.” Jason glances over his shoulder at Dick, and looks back at Tim with this frown. “That's.”

Tim looks up at Jason, sees the confusion on his face.

And Tim.

He gets it, he does, but.

This is Tim's life now, isn't it.

Dick and Jason making sure Tim knows how he fits into their lives even as they carve out spaces for themselves in the ever shifting terrain of Tim's. (Bruce at the edges, careful, always so careful.)

“How attached to this shirt are you?” Tim asks, completely serious. 

There's a cardboard box in front of Tim, and Jason's t-shirt in his hands. (A sullen, cranky Spitfire watching both of them.)

Jason sighs, dragging a hand over his face and muttering something about Tim being a pain.

“Keep it,” Jason says, getting up. “Not like I don't have more of 'em.”

A fair amount of which are currently living in the dresser in Tim's spare room along with some of Jason's things.

Tim _hmms_ , smacking Jason's foot on reflex when he aims a gentle kick at Tim on his way past.

********

Bruce is staring at Tim, and, much like Jason sometimes (often) does, is judging him.

Tim shrugs, cape falling just so to offer a little more shelter from the cold. (He imagines he can hear Selina's laughter drifting back to them on the wind.)

“What?” Tim asks. “She's my source for the high grade stuff.”

Bruce.

He doesn't sigh, no. 

The Batman doesn't sigh, but.

If this was anyone else, it would definitely be a sigh.

(Just saying.)

********

“Tim, Timmers, _Timbo_.”

Tim sighs, tries to bury his face in his pillow, but Dick just drops onto Tim's bed and scoots close, throws an arm around Tim's waist and _snuggles_.

“Dick, _no_ ,” Tim mumbles, trying in vain to escape Dick's clutches, but. _Dick_. 

Tim opens one eye, glares at Jason who's leaning in the open doorway to Tim's room and _smirking_ at Tim.

“Help?” Tim asks, even though he knows Jason. 

Knows what kind of person he is. (The absolute worst.)

Jason presses the fingers of one hand to his chest like, _Who, me?_ , and cackles.

Tim's eyes widen, and he tries to get out of Dick's hold in earnest, but hesitates at nerve striking the clingy octopus in human skin, which is ultimately his downfall.

“Jason!”

Because Jason's still cackling as he rushes the bed, throws himself over them, over _Tim_. All sharp elbows and this hulking mass of ridiculous muscle and unadulterated evil.

Distantly, over the roaring in his ears as Tim struggles for breath, he can hear Dick's laughter mixing with Jason's cackling.

And then, a sharp growling sound as Spitfire launches herself at them. 

Jason's pained yelp and Dick's startled one.

Tim wriggles his way to freedom in the chaos that follows, dragging in air and unable to keep the smirk off his face as he watches Dick and Jason trying to fend off one very cranky little cat.

********

Tim has.

Parents who aren't the best in the world, but they tried. (He tells himself this over and over, throughout the trial and everything before and after.)

He has his parents, but there's also.

Well, Bruce, who.

So awkward sometimes (always), when they aren't Batman and Robin, aren't fighting crime and doing what they can to make Gotham safer.

Awkward, but still the kind of man who took Dick in, took Jason in. (Mourned, mourns, Jason still, even though Jason's back and all of them are _trying_.) 

Who took Tim in after - _after_ , and Tim has no doubt there will be more in the future, because _Bruce_.

There's Bruce, and wonderful, wonderful Alfred.

Dick, Jason.

Barbara and Steph and the others who spill into Tim's life, bringing light and color and laughter with them.

So.

This is Tim's life now, for better or worse.

(Better, definitely.)

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*


End file.
